


May your days be painful and dark

by asamandra



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Character Death, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Enemas, Kidnapping, M/M, Mutilation, Pepper is not nice either, Phil is not a nice guy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shaving, Slave Clint, Slavery, Tony is not a nice guy, slave Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: Tony and Pepper have a present for Phil... and he likes it a lot!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://youngbondagelover.tumblr.com/post/161138898863/zackery1982-hot-and-tightly-gagged-christmas) picture.

People, who knew Phil, would never say that he was a nice man. Because, well, he wasn’t. Phil was a professional, he could do his job with an effectivity not many people managed, but Phil was definitely not a nice man. 

Four years ago Phil left the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division after Tony Stark had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Now Phil lived in a huge apartment in the best location in New York, the Stark Tower, he earned in two months what he had made in a year with SHIELD and he called Tony and Pepper friends. His office was on the same floor where Tony and Pepper had their offices, and he had handpicked the members of his team himself. He had hired a few SHIELD agents together with other capable _operatives_. 

What Phil did for Stark Industries? Everything necessary that no one should be able to connect to Stark Industries, and Phil didn’t hesitate to get his hands dirty. And yes, Phil was that good, that’s why Tony - or better, Pepper - hired him. And they knew what they had in him. Phil did all the dirty work for Stark Industries without leaving the slightest trace, and that's why they not only tolerated his _unusual_ needs, they sometimes left him a special _present_ , which Phil more than appreciated. 

It was Christmas Eve, when Tony called him to his office. Phil looked at his wristwatch and sighed, It was 10 pm, and Tony and Pepper were supposed to be at the annual Stark Industries Christmas Party. Phil’s XO, Grant Ward, stayed with the security teams when Phil left the party. He rode with the elevator to the floor with Tony’s office, walked to the door - his PA wasn’t at her desk anymore, she was at the party already - knocked, and entered without waiting for Tony to call him in. 

“Phil,” Tony smiled, when he saw him. He leaned against his desk, a glass with whiskey in his hand, and smiled brightly. 

“Tony,” Phil nodded, and looked around. “What can I do for you?” 

“Nothing,” Tony said. Phil raised a brow. “You clock out and go home. Everything is fine, you took care of it, and now… Ward can handle the party.” 

“But…” He started, but Tony rose, smiled and put a hand on Phil’s shoulder. 

“But nothing, Agent. Pep and me left a present in your apartment, it’s Christmas Eve and, well, like I said, Ward can handle the party. You? Go home and have fun.” Tony pressed another glass in Phil’s hand, filled it with whiskey, put an arm around Phil’s shoulder and steered him out of his office. “We don’t want to see you till Christmas is over. Understood?” 

A small smile crept on Phil’s face. He took a sip from the exquisite whiskey, saluted mockingly and followed Tony out of his office. “Yes, boss.” 

“Have fun, Phil.”

***

Phil went back into the elevator, punched in the code for his floor, and waited for the door to close. Tony found out about his _desires_ when he had hacked his SHIELD file four years ago. He had told him that he knew, and that he didn’t have a problem with it as long as he could do his job. Phil had raised a brow, but Afghanistan - and the betrayal by Stane - had changed Tony. He said, he accepted Phil’s _weird_ desires, but he also said, he demanded loyalty. Phil had nodded, and they shook hands. And that was that.

The elevator stopped, the door opened and Phil left the car. In the right corner, close to the huge window wall, was the christmas tree Tony’s _minions_ set up. It was perfectly decorated in blue, red and white. Phil could even see Captain America Ornaments and instead of a star it had Cap’s shield on top. He could see the _present_ , Tony had placed under the tree. 

But Phil went to the bar on the left side of the room first. When he was with Tony, he _had_ to drink whiskey, but he himself preferred brandy. He searched for the bottle with his favorite Brandy de Jerez, Fernando de Castilla, poured a good amount in a glass, loosened his tie, went to the couch and sat down.

From his favorite spot he could take a good look at the christmas tree… and the present. 

A young man, dressed only in a Santa hat and a red g-string, made of red mesh, lay there, struggling slightly. He was gagged with a ball gag and hogtied. Someone (Tony?) wrapped red ribbon with a bow around his throat and his waist. Phil couldn’t hold back the smile that crept onto his face, and he took a long sip of his drink. 

The captive glared in his direction, and Phil saw a mixture of fear and anger. He still didn’t stop struggling, and his skin was shiny with sweat, it glistened slightly in the lights from the tree. Phil’s pants became tight in the right places. He took another sip of his brandy, let the taste linger on his tongue before he swallowed, put the glass onto the table and rose. He went to his present, and hunkered down beside him. 

He looked up at Phil, still the mixture of fear and anger in his eyes, and tried to move out of his reach. But the way he was tied made it impossible. Phil saw cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and the chains were interwoven. And the ribbon was threaded through them as well, and pulled it tight against his back. He couldn’t move at all. When Phil reached out to touch him, he yelled something into his ball gag, and tried to move again. 

Phil pulled at the santa hat, removed it and saw short, tousled, sandy blonde hair. His smile broadened. He loved blondes. 

“Pretty,” he murmured, and opened the bow around the man’s throat. It held some small keys, and Phil put it in his pants pocket. He knew he would need them later. When he touched the young man’s shoulder, he tried to move away again. 

“Stay still, boy,” Phil snapped, when his captive’s struggling became too annoying. The young man twitched, and directed his eyes at him. 

Phil grabbed his chin, forced him to look at him. “Beautiful eyes,” he said. He moved the boy’s head left and right. “They are tricolored,” he muttered. The young man glared angrily at him and mumbled something into his gag, probably insults. But Phil ignored it, he already let his hands roam over the boy’s body. His muscles were solid and firm, yet his form was lithe. Just the way Phil liked his _toys_. The young man tried to squirm out of Phil’s reach, but with his feet bound to his hands it was futile. 

Phil slowly caressed his arms, his legs, his chest, teased his nipples. The man cursed into his gag when Phil followed the happy trail from his navel to the elastic waistband of his thong, and the boy shook his head frantically. But he didn’t pull it away. Not yet. He trailed his fingers over the fabric, over the boy’s soft cock inside of the thin mesh, and his smile broadened again when his present shuddered. 

Slowly Phil moved back a bit, pursed his lips, and then leaned over the boy.

“I’ll open the gag now, boy. If you scream, I’ll squash your balls so that you actually have a reason to scream. Understood?”

The boy glared at him for a long moment, but when he didn’t react, Phil grabbed his cock and balls and started to squeeze them painfully. The boy yelled into his gag. But then he nodded. 

“Good boy,” Phil murmured, reached over his head and opened the gag. The young man spat it out immediately and worked his jaw for a moment. “What’s your name?” 

“Fuck you!” He snapped, and Phil backhanded him. Hard. His lip started to bleed, and he yelped with some surprise. 

“Your name,” Phil said calmly as if nothing had happened at all. He grabbed his cheeks again and forced the boy to look at him. 

“Cl-clint,” he stammered. His chest rose and fell visibly, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down a few times. 

“Clint,” Phil repeated, tested the name. He nodded, he liked the name, it suited him. “How old are you, Clint?” 

“I… twenty-two,” he answered after a moment. Phil nodded again. 

“Family?” He wanted to know now. 

“Yes,” the boy said now. Phil saw a tiny bit of defiance in his eyes. He knew, Tony would never pick someone who would be missed by someone, Phil knew that. And if he wanted to he could read the dossier on the coffee table. Tony always sent one with them. But he preferred to ask his boys. And this one outright lied to him. Phil backhanded him again. His head snapped back, and he yelped again. 

“Don’t lie to me, Clint,” Phil said quietly. “Do I have to repeat myself?” 

“No,” the young man whispered, and lowered his eyes. Phil could barely restrain the grin that wanted to creep onto his face. “My parents are dead, and my brother…” he stopped, swallowed, licked his lips. “He’s in jail.” 

“How long?” Phil wanted to know. The boy licked his lips again. 

“Three… three times life sentence,” he said quietly. This time Phil didn’t hold back the smirk. 

“Good boy,” he said, and patted Clint’s cheek. “And now…” he stopped, grabbed the boy’s shoulder and turned him onto his belly. 

“Ouch!” The young man yelped. Phil ignored it, took one of the keys he had had around his neck, and unlocked the cuffs around his feet. He had to remove the ribbon around his waist, too, but when they were free, the captive moaned. 

“So, let me get one thing straight, Clint,” Phil leaned over him, his mouth very close to Clint’s ear. “You’re going to be in pain, a great deal of it, if I may add. But whether you survive this is entirely up to you, boy.” 

“Wh-what?” 

“You do what I say when I say it and there’s a slight chance you will survive this. You fight me, you die. Understood?” Phil said, his voice calm, deadly calm. 

“Please,” the boy whispered. “Please…” 

“For now, be quiet.” He waited a few seconds, but then the young man nodded. Phil moved back a bit, reached into the pocket of his pants, took the switchblade he had there, opened it and cut through the strings of the thong the boy wore. 

“Please,” he whimpered, and squeezed his eyes shut. Phil swatted his ass, and the boy stilled immediately. 

“What did I say?” Phil asked, his voice still deadly calm. 

“Be quiet,” Clint said. He swallowed a few times nervously. “I… I’m quiet.” 

“Good boy,” Phil said again. When the young man stopped struggling, he grabbed the remains of the thong, and removed them. He held Clint at his neck with one hand, and forced his legs open with his own. The boy opened his mouth, but he didn’t say a word, just closed it after a second. “Good boy,” Phil repeated. 

He still held the young man’s neck but with his free hand Phil opened his pants. His dick was rock hard, it leaked precum already. He didn’t bother with lube, he just spread the boy’s buttocks, lined himself up and with one forceful thrust he breached him. 

Clint screamed, couldn’t hold it back and Phil knew it. It wasn’t the first time he broke in a new boy. They all screamed. He waited a few seconds, but then he started to thrust in earnest, his hand still on Clint’s neck. The young man whimpered in pain, but stopped screaming. Phil didn’t stop, didn’t hold himself back, he fucked into his body as hard as possible. He loved the tiny sounds of pain the boy made. 

But fortunately for Clint, Phil didn’t last long. His orgasm was overwhelming, and he shot his load in the boy’s quivering hole. He removed his dick and let go of the boy’s neck. 

“Turn around,” he ordered after a moment. Clint twitched, and turned to look at him.

“Wh-what?” He asked, and Phil swatted his ass again. 

“Are you hard of hearing? Turn around!” he snapped. “I don’t want to repeat myself all the time,” he added, slightly angry now. 

“No… no, I…” Clint stammered, and Phil swatted his ass once more. 

“What did I say about you talking?” 

“S-sorry,” the boy murmured, and ducked his head. Phil grabbed his neck again, and forced him to turn around. 

“Now, shut up and lick it clean,” he said, threatening. Clint’s eyes snapped up, looked at him disbelievingly. Phil raised one brow. “Don’t try me.” 

Clint’s lip quivered, he licked them nervously but after another moment he opened his mouth and did as he was told. He was clumsy, but Phil let him get away with it. It was his first time and he would train him to get better. When he was done, Phil rose, and tucked himself away. 

The boy stayed on the ground, licked his lips again, and Phil saw him trembling. He pursed his lips, looked at his watch and took a deep breath. Yeah, the boy was satisfying, he would keep him. 

“Steve!” He called, and stepped back. Only a few seconds later the door went open. 

“Master,” Steve said, came close and went down on his knees. 

“I’ll go to Tony’s party. Take care of him. We keep him.”

***

“Phil!” Tony grinned, as soon as he spotted him. He put his glass onto a tray one of the waiters held, and patted Phil’s shoulder. “Already done?”

“Yes, Tony,” Phil said slowly, and he smiled. “Thank you again.” 

“So, satisfied? Or do we need to dispose him?” Tony steered him to the bar, and Phil sighed. “I can call Natasha.” 

“No, we don’t need her,” Phil said and shook his head. “He’s…” he stopped, and smiled. “I’ll keep him. At least for a while.” 

“Oh ho!” Tony’s grin broadened, and he patted his shoulder again. “Another Steve?” 

“Who knows?” Phil shrugged, and Tony started to laugh. 

“Well then, seems like Pepper made a good choice,” he said, and waved to someone behind him. Phil looked over his shoulder and saw Pepper coming over to them. 

“Phil,” she said sweetly and hugged him as soon as she arrived. “Happy Christmas,” she added, and looked him over. “Did you try your present?” 

“Yes, Pepper. It’s great, thank you,” Phil smiled.

“He’ll keep him,” Tony interjected, with a lecherous grin. 

“Oh, really? That’s great,” she said and wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist. “Don’t you think Steve will get jealous?” 

“God, no!” Phil snorted. “He’ll be pleased to have a companion again after we had to get rid of Bucky.” 

“Well, let’s see how he’s adapting,” she said. “And you can still call Natasha if he doesn’t get along with him.” 

“Yes, that’s true. But for now, let’s see how he’s doing.” 

“Enough of this,” Tony clapped his hands. “This is a party. Go and have fun.” 

“Yes, sir,” Phil grinned, and mockingly saluted. Yes, he would have fun with his colleagues and friends. And this night he would call Steve and Clint to his bed and have _fun_ with them. He looked around and allowed himself a smile. Yes, to leave SHIELD to work for Tony was his best decision. And now he would get himself a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint had no idea what has happened. At one moment he was negotiating with Pepper Potts in person about a new job - he even had bought a brand new and expensive suit - and the next moment he found himself locked in a small room, his hands tied behind his back. Her assistant had given him a glass of water and then… darkness. 

The room he was in was empty, cold tiles on the floor and the walls. Someone had gagged him so he couldn’t even scream for help. 

At one point a dark-haired man came in, young, good looking. He smirked a little and hunkered down beside Clint.

“Congratulations,” he said. “You got the job.” 

The man moved his hand and Clint paled. He had a knife in his hand and started to cut off his clothes. Clint struggled, but the man held the knife against his throat, told him to stay still or he would slit his throat. He swallowed but stopped struggling. 

“Good decision,” the man said, and continued to cut away his clothes. Clint squeezed his eyes shut. Not only because it was humiliating but also because he was scared to death. He had no idea why he was here, what these people wanted with him, but when the dark-haired man left with his clothes and came back a few minutes later with water, shaving cream and a disposable razor, Clint started to struggled again. 

“You know, when you struggle I’ll cut you and that… that’s going to reduce your value,” the man said laconically and put his stuff down. 

Clint shivered, when the man touched him to rub the shaving cream into his skin and he pressed his eyes shut, when he started to removed all his body hair. Everywhere. On his arms, his armpits, his chest, his belly, his legs… his pubes. He even turned him around to check if there were hair in his crack and Clint almost lost it. But a hard slap on his butt made him stop. A tear ran over his face and he swallowed hard.

The man gathered his stuff and carried it out of the room. Clint looked after him. _His value? What was that supposed to mean?_ He tested the ties around his wrists but they were solid, plastic tie strips, unbreakable. 

The man came back only a few minutes later, but this time he was not alone. Another man was with him, tall, blond and he only wore a flimsy thong and a collar around his neck. And he also carried a tray in his hand.

“Get him ready, Steve,” he said and the blond man - Steve - hunkered down beside him. 

“Yes, sir,” he said and put the tray onto the ground. When Clint saw what was on it, he shook his head violently. Together they turned him onto his belly again and then Steve took the filled enema bag from the tray, rose and attached it to a hook he hadn’t seen. When he hunkered down again, Clint tried to get away, but the dark haired man leaned over him, held him down and he was heavy. 

“Stop it!” He hissed and slapped Clint’s butt. Tears filled his eyes and he stopped moving. But when Steve spread his cheeks, he yelled into his gag once more. 

“Please,” Steve said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Clint couldn’t stop moving when something cold and wet touched his entrance and with a curse the dark haired man hunkered down, too, grabbed Clint’s arms and held him in place. “Go on,” he snapped. “We don’t have all day.” 

The cold and wet thing touched his entrance again and this time it entered him. Clint screamed into his gag. 

“That’s it,” the dark haired man said. “Now, go on.” 

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered and only a second later Clint could feel the liquid flow into his body, felt it through his bowels. The initial discomfort turned to pain, he cramped and he broke out in a cold sweat. More shudders ran over his body. It took a few minutes, before Steve pulled out the nozzle and he thought, he could relieve himself now but instead he shoved in a thick plug and he held in in place. Clint couldn’t hold back the convulsive sobbing. His whole body was in pain and he couldn’t even struggle, because the two held him merciless. He had no idea how long he lay there, held down, unable to move, but suddenly the two men grabbed his arms, hoisted him up, pulled him back over a bowl and one of them removed the plug. Immediately and explosively he emptied his bowels. When he thought his treatment so far couldn’t get worse, he was wrong because _this_ was the most humiliating thing ever happened in his entire life. And it hurt like a motherfucker. 

The two men shoved him back onto the ground a few minutes later and the nozzle entered him again. Clint was too weak to shake his head anymore. Everything hurt, his whole body shuddered and cramped once more. He sobbed into his gag, begged them to stop but they couldn’t understand him and he was pretty sure even if they did, they wouldn’t stop. 

After the second bowel evacuation they let him slump down onto the ground. Someone rose and carried away the bowl and the other one touched his entrance again for a few seconds, his fingers cold and wet. 

“It will be easier this way,” the someone - Steve - murmured. “Master won’t use lube the first time.” 

Clint managed to move his head and blinked at the man, kneeling beside him. He couldn’t read his expression, the tears blurred his vision, but when the other man came back, Steve cast his eyes down to the ground immediately. 

“What did you do, Steve?” The man asked sharply. He grabbed his hair and forced him to look up at him. 

“Nothing, sir,” Steve whispered, pain clearly audible in his small voice. “I just checked if we accidentally injured him.” 

“And?” The dark haired man snapped. 

“Nothing, sir. He’s okay,” Steve said. 

“Okay,” the man nodded. “Help me get him to Coulson’s apartment. We can finish the rest of the preparations there.” 

“Yes, sir,” Steve rose and together they grabbed his arms again. Clint groaned in pain, when they pulled him out of the room and to an elevator. No one was in the corridors and there were no windows, just doors. When the car arrived, they stepped in and the man in the suit pressed a button and Steve held Clint upright. 

When the car stopped only shortly later, another man - also with dark hair and suit but a little older and with more rugged features and a beard - waited for them. They were in a huge apartment with floor lengths windows and an equally huge christmas tree. 

“Why did it take so long, Ward?” He asked. “We’re on a tight schedule. The party starts in half an hour.” 

“Shut up, Rumlow. Next time you can do it!” The man who held Clint’s arm snapped. 

“Come on, move. Coulson will be here soon and Mr. Stark will be disappointed when his present isn’t ready for him.” 

The man - Ward - and Steve dragged him over to the tree while the other man - Rumlow - followed them with some items in his hand. 

“Here, put this on him,” he said and gave something to Steve. He nodded and went down beside him, lifted one of Clint’s feet and then the other. When he pulled it up Clint realized it was a red thong, a very flimsy one. Steve arranged his dick and Clint started to struggle again. 

“Stop that,” Rumlow snarled. He pulled out a knife and cut open the tie strips. And then he saw the cuffs he had given to Steve. Broad, sturdy, unbreakable and Clint shook his head violently, struggled and writhed in Ward’s grip. But this time Rumlow made a step up to him, grabbed his hair and forced him to stay still. 

“Don’t move,” he hissed, grabbed Clint’s left nipple and squeezed it painfully. He screamed into his gag, tears ran over his face again. 

“Sirs, I have to inform you that Mr. Stark talks to Mr. Coulson about his present right now,” a disembodied voice suddenly said. 

“Shit!” Ward cursed. “Thank you, Jarvis,” he added then. 

“Come on, move a little faster,” Rumlow snapped and Ward turned to him now. 

“Why don’t you just help us instead of playing pocket billiards?” He hissed. Rumlow’s expression darkened and he turned his anger to Ward now, away from Clint.

“Don’t forget who you are talking to!” He growled. 

“Don’t _you_ forget that I’m not answering to you anymore, Rumlow. My superior is Coulson now and Coulson answers to Mr. Stark and only to Mr. Stark. And now…” 

“Sirs, forgive me my interruption, but Mr. Coulson will be here in about ten minutes,” Jarvis said. 

“Fuck!” Rumlow hissed. But then he nodded at Steve and together he and Ward forced Clint onto the ground. Clint struggled and screamed into the gag again. 

“Steve,” Rumlow commanded, and Clint felt his hands on his ankles, felt the cold metal of cuffs being attached and then they interwove the chains with the ones around his wrists. He lay there in a hogtie when one of them wrapped something around his waist. He tried to look at it but Ward opened the gag and removed it. 

“Please,” Clint rasped. “Please, let me go.” But the men ignored it. 

“Open your mouth,” Ward said and when Clint shook his head, he squeezed his nose shut till the urge to breathe became too strong and he sucked in the air through his mouth. And Ward shoved a red ball into his mouth only a second later. He buckled it behind his head and rose. 

“Cute,” Rumlow grinned. “Here,” he added and handed something red to Ward, who hunkered down beside him again. 

Clint saw him thread a red ribbon through a set of keys and wrapped it around Clint’s neck and tied it. And finally he put a red santa hat on his head. Ward rose once more, took his phone, snapped a picture. 

“What are you doing?” Rumlow snarled and Ward sighed.

“Mr. Stark wants to see him,” he said. 

“Okay, we’re done here. Steve, back to your room,” Rumlow said. 

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. He left without hesitation. 

But before the other two men left, Rumlow turned to Clint, hunkered down beside him and smirked at him. “And now, boy, welcome your new owner.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Mr Rumlow sent him out of the room, Steve didn’t go to _his_ room as instructed. Instead he waited in the corridor behind the living room, leaned close to the door and listened.   
He knew, Jarvis would tell Master of his disobedience, but he would tell Master that he was worried his present would choke or something. Master would probably beat him, but he couldn’t let the captive die like that. 

He could hear the young man struggling against his ties, could hear him moan into his gag. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall and waited. 

Master entered his apartment only a few minutes after Mr. Rumlow left, he could hear him go to the bar, pouring himself a drink. Steve closed his eyes. He knew, Master was not a nice man but when he drank, he was even worse. 

It was quiet for some time aside from the quiet noises the captive made. But then he could hear Master go to him, and Steve sneaked away, sneaked to his room. He lay down on his mattress and pressed the cushion over his head. He knew what Master would do now but there wasn’t anything he, Steve, could do. He had tried it once and it had cost his best friend his life. 

When he heard a muffled scream he pressed the cushion down even more. And he couldn’t stop the memories of his own first day here. 

 

_Steve sat at his desk in the bullpen of SI’s legal department, working, with earbuds in his ears, when someone tapped his shoulder. He looked up and removed the earbuds._

_“Ms. Rushman?” He gasped. Natalie Rushman stood beside his desk and threw a file onto his desk. She never came down to the bullpen and she sure as hell didn’t talk to the interns. Everyone knew that._

_“Did you work on this case, Steve?” She asked. Steve took the file with shaking hands, opened it, saw the file number and then he nodded. He felt a lump in his stomach. Maybe he fucked it up and she would throw him out now. He needed this job, this internship, for his law studies._

_“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded._

_“Good work. Really good work,” she smiled and he was even more scared right now. “I have a special assignment for you,” she said then and gestured with her head that he should follow her._

_She walked to the elevator and together they rode up to the 48th floor, where the_ real _lawyers had their offices. He followed her to one of the corner offices with a great view out to the city. A man was there already, sat in one of the visitor chairs and looked at his phone._

_“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Coulson,” Ms. Rushman introduced the two of them. The man in the chair rose, smiled and held his hand out for him to shake it. Coulson held a copy of the same file in his hand and he put it down on the desk._

_“Mr. Rogers, I have a few questions,” Coulson said and then he spent the next two hours answering the man’s questions. Some were a little off but when the man smiled and shook his hand again, Steve almost shuddered. Coulson was more than a little creepy and the way he looked at him was weird, to put it mildly. He left and Ms. Rushman sent him back to his desk._

_Steve went back to his work, but later that afternoon Ms. Rushman came again and told him that Coulson has requested his transfer to his department. She said he would get more money and the chance to work with one of the best in the company._

_And the biggest mistake in his life was to accept this offer._

 

Steve could hear the captive’s screams, could imagine what Master did to him right now. And even if he was sorry for the young man, he was glad that it wasn’t him tonight. He closed his eyes and felt like a monster. But no, the real monsters were Master and his red-haired assassin, Ms. Rushman. He remembered… 

 

_Steve was in pain. He was here in Master’s apartment for god knows how long and the man had hurt him whenever he had time. Steve had tried to fight him, but Master was strong, stronger than him. He had some men who helped him and the AI blocked his attempts to flee._

_Master had forced himself on Steve every night since he was here and when he took a break from his work he came up here and Steve had to suck him off. He had refused the first few times, had even bitten him once. Master was really furious, had strapped him down on his dining table, had forced his legs open and cut out one of his balls with a kitchen knife, and Steve had screamed._

_“If you don’t want to lose more parts I’d suggest you don’t do that ever again, boy! Understood?” He snapped._

_Steve could only nod, he wasn’t able to speak back then._

_Master used the whip on him fairly often, even then, when he didn’t do anything wrong. But when he fucked up, he beat him so hard, that he couldn’t move for days sometimes._

_One day, Steve was in his room, Master called for him. Steve didn’t hesitate, he had learned the hard way not to, and hurried into the living room, where Master sat on a chair in front of his bar while Ms. Rushman sat on an armchair. And a tied up man lay unconscious in front of her. Steve’s mouth went dry immediately. He recognized him, recognized his longish brunette hair, recognized his shape and his clothes. Bucky!_

_“Who’s that, Steve?” Ms. Rushman asked sweetly. Steve looked at Master for a brief second but when he saw the completely blank expression - a sure sign that Master was beyond pissed - he finally knelt down and answered._

_“That’s… Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. My… room mate,” he said. The last one was a lie, he knew that but he couldn’t tell them. He just couldn’t._

_“He searched for you, Steve, asked questions, snooped around,” Ms. Rushman said. Steve opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at Master again. And he flinched, when the man rose from his barstool and walked over to him, grabbed his hair and forced him to look at him._

_“I’ve told you not to lie,” he said so calm that Steve winced in his grip. He knew, Master would punish him later, punish him severely._

_“I… I didn’t lie, Ma-master,” he said. He had asked him for his family and - technically - Bucky wasn’t family, even if he grew up in his house, with his parents, with his sisters._

_“You said, you had no family. But this guy searched for _his brother_. Care to explain that?” Master asked and pulled at Steve’s hair. _

_“I… I don’t know why he would say that. I barely know him,” Steve said, knowing that they would beat him for the lie if they found out… or worse._

_“Tony checked him,” Ms. Rushman said and pointed at a few papers on the table. “You lived with him since your mother died, Steve. You lived in his parents’ house, you lived with his family.” She cocked her head. “Just a room mate?”_

_“Ma-master, I… I’m sorry!” Steve looked pleadingly at the man behind him. “Please, don’t… don’t hurt him,” he added quietly._

_“Get up, go to the pillar,” Master said and pulled Steve’s hair again. Steve nodded, one last glance at Bucky, who was still unconscious. He rose and did as told. Master followed him, grabbed his shoulder, turned him around and pressed him with his back to the pillar._

_“Put your hands behind the pillar,” Master said, and when he obeyed he felt cold metal snap around his wrists._

_“Natasha, could you please fake his death? Let his family know he had an accident or something like that,” Master gestured at Bucky and Ms. Rushman smirked, rose and left the room. She took a few of Bucky’s items with her - his watch, his wallet, his phone - and Master came now back to him._

_“So, Steve. Time to teach you another lesson,” he smiled and patted Steve’s cheek before he turned his attention to Bucky._

 

Master had raped Bucky, had beaten him, had put a tracking chip in his body and he collared him, just like Steve. He told Bucky that he would kill Steve if he didn’t behave and then he would kill his parents and his sisters, too. Bucky tried to lash out and then he had to watch Steve getting whipped. 

Bucky had begged Master to stop and when Steve had lost consciousness, he had given in. Steve lay in his room and listened to Master breaking in the new one, making him his plaything, just like Steve, just like Bucky had been. 

Steve turned around onto his back, stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t look at the empty mattress in _his_ room anymore, the mattress Bucky had slept on, until… 

 

_They had captured them in the staircase. They had almost arrived the door that led into the parking garage when suddenly Ms. Rushman was there, tasered Bucky until he was squirming and screaming at the ground. Master was right behind her, a gun in his hand, and his expression told Steve that he was beyond furious._

_“I kept him here, Steve,” Master hissed. “I didn’t throw him out of the 57th floor immediately. For you! And this is how you thank me?”_

_“Master, please…” Steve started, but Master backhanded him so hard with the gun, that his lip split and blood ran over his chin. “Please.”_

_“What did I tell you when we kept him? If you fuck up, his sisters have to pay the price! Natasha, another accident please,” Master said and looked at Ms. Rushman._

_“No, please,” Bucky croaked hoarsely. “Don’t… don’t… they didn’t do anything wrong,” he pushed himself up on one elbow. “It was my idea, not Steve’s.”_

_“No, Bucky,” Steve pleaded, pushed himself up onto his knees and then he looked at Master. “He’s lying, Master. It was my idea.”_

_Master ignored Bucky completely, glared at Steve. “I know it way your idea, Steve.” He hunkered down and looked in Steve’s eyes. “You thought you could trick Jarvis, but Tony built him and Tony… you know, he’s a genius. Jarvis is way more advanced than you can even imagine.”_

_“Master, please,” Steve pleaded. “Please!” But Master just rose, walked around Steve and grabbed his collar._

_“Natasha,” he said and Ms. Rushman smiled. And that smile was the scariest thing Steve had ever seen. She moved forward, stepped over Bucky, grabbed his head and pulled it up so Steve could look in his eyes._

_“No! No, Master, please! Leave him alone! Take me instead!” Steve begged and pleaded but Master didn’t move._

_“If you look away I cut out your eyes with a rusty spoon,” he hissed in Steve’s ear. Steve stilled immediately but only for a second. Then he started to struggle and to fight against Master’s grip._

_“Master, please! Stop!” he called when Ms. Rushman pulled a knife out of her boot._

_“Steve,” Bucky whispered and reached out for him. And then Ms. Rushman brought the knife up to Bucky’s throat._

_“I love you,” Steve called, and a tear ran over Bucky’s face. Ms. Rushman pressed the knife in the soft skin at Bucky’s throat… and cut through it._

_“NOOOO!!!” Steve cried, and struggled. Blood ran over Bucky’s chest, it gushed out, some of it landed on Steve, some on Master, lots of it on Ms. Rushman. She held Bucky’s head for a few more seconds but Steve knew he was dead, the spark in his eyes was gone and when she let go he dropped down to the ground._

_Master let go of Steve and he crawled over to Bucky._

_“No, no, no, no, no,” he cried. Carefully he reached out for him, pulled him in a hug and didn’t care that Bucky’s blood dropped on him. Tears ran over his face, and he stroked Bucky’s head, cradled him in his arms and kissed him again and again._

_“That’s enough,” Master said after a few seconds. Someone grabbed Steve and he cried out again._

_“No!! No, Bucky!! Let go of me!” He struggled, wanted to get back to Bucky but the men who held him were strong._

_“Get rid of the body, Natasha,” Master commanded. “I have to take care of him now.” And he followed the men who dragged Steve to Master’s_ playroom.

 

“Steve!” Master called for him and he rose from his mattress, wiped away the tears he once again had in his eyes and hurried to the living room. 

““I’ll go to Tony’s party. Take care of him. We keep him,” Master said and left the living room without a second glance. 

Steve went over to the captive, who lay crying on the floor. He knelt down beside him, looked him over. He was younger than him but when he looked up at him, the captive reminded him a little bit of Bucky and he had to swallow. He knew, he couldn’t fuck up anymore, otherwise Bucky’s sisters would die. And so he would do what Master ordered him to. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said quietly, and held his hand out for the young man to take. 

“Why?” the captive whispered. “Why are they doing this?” 

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed hard. But then he shook his head a tiny bit. “I don’t know. Maybe just because they can.”

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)


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